


My Muse

by RosyMiz



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Collaboration, Drabble, F/M, and as my friend puts it, beautiful metaphors, gun mention, muse sona, skt jhin, tasty similes, that sexyual tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 11:02:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15266103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosyMiz/pseuds/RosyMiz
Summary: Jhin seeks the inspiration he needs. Once more, he meets his muse. What does he see?





	My Muse

**Author's Note:**

> Please take a look at my friend's painting before reading this work, as this is a bit of a collaboration with her piece!
> 
> http://yangyexin.tumblr.com/post/175747839142/i-swear-i-know-other-champions-exist

Inspiration comes like a burst of golden light that shines from the parted heavens above. It is times like these when I close my eyes and let myself bask in its light. I can hear the airy notes of strings all around me; her presence is ever so close. The music approaches closer and closer.

I feel fingertips gently caress my jawline to my chin, their phantom touch still lingering as they pull away. I do not yet reach for the hands that set on my shoulders. I do not yet open my eyes upon her. I simply wait.

Within the strings, I hear a sequence of notes that sound like laughter. How quaint. She toys with me.

She lowers her head and presses her hair against my head. Her hands remain on my shoulders. The aroma of honeysuckle threatens to break my patience, but I wait. I mention that she holds a different crown this time. I hear her breathe a sound of amused satisfaction.

Her crown’s scent evokes a scenery of overgrown honeysuckles decorating porcelain skin, all the way to the fingertips.

As she weaves her way around me, I listen to the soft rustling of her white robes.

A vision of dancers rising from smoke, slowly swirling into branches of flowers, and white butterflies fluttering among the wisps.

Before I can take in more, the caressing of her hands on my face stops me. She hushes me, as if she knew I wanted to speak. Her hands linger. My patience breaks. I open my eyes upon beauty of gold and silk. Her smile implies that even her own patience was beginning to waver.

Her hair flows like there is a breeze. It is like tree branches swaying in the wind, golden leaves steadfast in their places. Yet, it reminds me of silk woven from the finest golden threads.

No matter how many times I’ve seen her, she still takes my breath away. My gaze does not falter from her own as I make my way to stand up. A dance with such beauty cannot be a missed opportunity, as always. But alas, she gently sits me back down with the touch of a finger.

No dances this time.

Instead she takes a seat upon my lap, her lips shaping into an artful smile. I can’t help but chuckle at her guileful act. She snakes her arm across my shoulders, letting her hand relax against my shoulder.

Without hesitation, I place my hand on her arm as I comb through her hair with the other. She presses the side of her forehead against my mask as my head leans towards the crook of her neck. I can feel her smile growing bigger as we settle against each other.

I close my eyes to indulge in this moment. A moment with her. Every time I see her, I treat it as if it will be my last.

My inspiration.

My love.

My muse.

And just like that, she disappears into wisps of smoke as the very moment passes. I stand within the shadows of the night, my mask dimly reflecting the paper lanterns of the street ahead. My gun is in my hand, cold and patiently waiting.

Not for long.


End file.
